


Spirits in my head

by crimsonepitaph



Series: 2017 Writing Project [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exhaustion, Gen, Inside Sam Winchester's mind, not a pretty place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 05:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/pseuds/crimsonepitaph
Summary: Sam and Dean feel the consequences of two weeks with almost no sleep. Part 2, Sam POV.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's note #1:** Title is from the lyrics in The Strumbrellas - Spirits.  
>  **Author's note #2:** Huge thank you to Betty (borgmama1of5) for the help on these two stories. Much love!<3 
> 
> **Author's note #3:** Part 2 and 3 of 2017 Writing Project. As cheerful as always, delving into Sam and Dean's minds!

Sam sits on the bed, legs stretched, and stares at the kitsch motel wall, florescent green with gold stripes that hurts his eyes.

He needs to focus on the case.

But he can’t. He’s too tired – too tired to move, even though the heat from the laptop is burning a red patch on his thigh. Too tired to think, even though the case is nowhere near finished.

Hell, it’s not even started.

Almost two weeks of unslept nights, thanks to an elusive nocturnal creature in this godforsaken town. Days – well, days aren’t a significant improvement either. Two, three hours of sleep here and there, but, mostly it’s useless research  and caffeine – _a lot_ of caffeine. Plus the exhaustion-fueled, mindless discussions about how Bobby would have had the answer a week ago.

Sam’s had too much experience with lack of sleep, courtesy of Lucifer and the broken wall, and he can mostly handle it – but that doesn’t mean the thoughts don’t slither in. Thoughts that Sam works hard to bury, thoughts that slow him down, drain him with the effort it takes to counter them.

And yet they feel like a blanket, warm and familiar, resting over him, numbing him – and Sam wants to give in.

It would be the easiest thing.

Sam stares at the wall, and somewhere in his mind … he’s on the ground.

Ground made of ash, inky black, and rough to the touch. The ash is of burning cities, and the unreal sky is a dull grey, heavy with threatening clouds that press down, there is no sun.

The world’s ending again, only it’s not, because Sam knows it’s not, but inside, inside his mind, there’s _Sammy_ – small, defenseless, weak…powerless against it all.

 _Sammy_ looks around with scared eyes. He sees the ash, he sees his faults, and he sees everything he’s ever done – or not done— to bring the world to this.

It’s the almost-Apocalypse, and it’s not, not really, just the scattering thoughts that make the darkness inside him come alive.

It’s as much the blackened eye sockets on Kevin’s face as it is the run-of-the-mill case, where a split-second decision follows him long after the bullet leaves the barrel of the gun.  

The wrongness, the doubt – it’s Sam.

 _Sammy_. That awakened shadow inside his mind, that thing that crawls through his fingertips every time he thinks he’s got a handle on it.

But, rationally, it’s not Sam.  

Sam is exonerated by a series of circumstances beyond his control.

Sam lives in the present, _Sammy_ lives in the past.

But Sam is so tired right now.  

His brain is looping around relentlessly…the voice in his head craves absolution, the voice thinks that it’s been too long and everything is alright.

 _Sammy_ is just a shell, a human emptied by past mistakes. The boy that needs to be told that he’s forgiven, that he’s done all he can.

There’s a man who knows that.

The brother that wants to ask for help, the Winchester that knows he can’t.

His brother has nothing he can spare for _Sammy_ right now.

Sam’s the one who drops the curtain on the hopelessness in his mind. He focuses on the screen of his laptop, reads again.  Sam…the one who tells Dean he’s found something on the case…that’s the real one. 

 


End file.
